Greed Displaced
by TicciToby334
Summary: It was supposed to be a simple day at ComiCon; go in, socialize, buy food, meet the people he was fans of, and go home. What made it not so simple was the fact that he had bought a prop from a cosplay salesman, and woke up in a forest, with the memories of his life, and the memories of an undying thief-made-knight-made-fugitive named Ban.
1. Chapter 1

He didn't know what happened. He didn't know why it happened. He just knew that it did. He had cosplayed as Ban from The Seven Deadly Sins while going to ComiCon for fun. It was just going to be a day trip, get in, have fun, socialize a bit and get out. He didn't expect anything strange, except for the occasional hardcore fan.

He was gonna leave, honestly he was. However, something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. A glint of light off of metal. He looked over and saw four bars of metal, the middle two being engraved with intricate drawings, and the ends being capped with spiraled metal. Each of them connected by short lengths of chain. An exact copy of Ban's Sacred Treasure. Before he could stop himself, he was standing in front of the counter that the weapon rested on. Before he walked away, an older man's spoke.

"Interested in them, are you?" the man asked. He looked up and saw a man who looked like the Happy Mask Salesman. "They've a certain allure, I know" he said softly with a smile.

"Oh, uh, they do, definitely," he said, leaning back a bit as he put his hands in the pockets so that he had a nonchalant look about him. "They look just like the ones from the show" he said, leaning forwards again to get a closer look.

"If you want them, you can have them, for the small price of twenty-five dollars" he said with a soft smile, his eyes closed as he tilted his head a bit.

"Really? That cheap for such great replicas," he said with a awe-filled look as he looked between the props and the salesman. Disbelief entered his eyes as he narrowed them. But after a bit of hesitant paying - all he had on him was twenty-five exactly - and grabbing them, he stood.

"Of course. However, there is a catch," the man said with a sickly sweet voice. He then opened his eyes and glared at the cosplayer before him, which sent shivers down his back. "Enjoy your trip" and that was the last he heard before silence fell and darkness overtook him.

* * *

Crimson eyes silently opened to a clear blue sky, dotted with white clouds. The owner sat up smoothly as he looked around a bit, seeing nothing but large trees with thick trunks. He stood and brushed off his pants, only to stop when he saw that there was a bit of red on his skin, on his hip. He lowered the red leather of his pants a bit and raised a brow at the sight of a red fox tattoo'd on his skin.

"Huh... that's very," he said, cutting himself off as he touches his Adam's apple in shock, as his voice was much deeper than it was before. "Strange..." he muttered as he looked around the thick trees, before noticing the four lengths of metal, connected to each other by short lengths of chain. It was similar to nunchaku, if they had four rods. It was the prop he bought from that damn salesman. An exact copy of Ban's Sacred Treasure, Courchouse.

He winced as memories flashed before his eyes, and he put a hand to his forehead as if to stave off a headache. He saw himself getting that prop, but not from the salesman. No, he got it from an older gentleman, with a long white beard and hair. Out of the corners of his eyes, he could see people in suits of armor, looking at him with weapons in hand. It was... surreal to say the least.

He picked up the prop and was shocked by how cold it was, as well how heavy. Yet he was able to pick it up with absolute ease. He hummed and slid it in the back of his pants, hiding it underneath his jacket. Looking around, he decided on a path and wandered in that direction, whistling a jaunty tune as he stuck his hands in his pockets, crimson eyes darting this way and that as he took in every single detail, making sure that his hair - which was exactly like the wig that he had gotten for Ban, only real - stayed out of his eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

After a long while of walking, the tall man had finally made it to civilization. He looked around, crimson eyes gazing lazily everywhere, seemingly not caring. In reality, he was taking everything in, as he had a feeling that he would need it later. Needing money, he decided to resort to small crimes; pickpocketing the rich who won't notice, pinching some food, etc. He smirked as he munched on some bread that he snatched, walking down the street. Pausing a bit in his chewing, he realized that he didn't have an identity here. And that he couldn't remember what his real name was.

He furrowed his brow and ran a hand through his hair before tossing the piece of bread in his mouth. Shrugging, he made his way to an alleyway to sleep the night away, thinking that he was going to find out about the whole 'identity' thing tomorrow. Only to find that he couldn't sleep. It wasn't the fact that he was cold, nor was it the stone. It was the feeling in his gut that something was going to happen and that he couldn't miss it. Sighing, he sat up and forcefully rubbed his face, before growling softly in irritation, standing. He stretched and sighed softly before tilting his head when he heard shouting. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he walked forwards, seeing a group of men in bowler hats stealing from a shop.

He saw one of the men raise a curiously red bladed sword, about to strike down the old man's life. Rolling his eyes, he reached out his hand to take the red bladed sword out of the man's raised hand, only for his fingertips to grow warm as the blade was stopped before the man can bring it down. He felt the man tug on the blade, even though he was feet away. He smirked wide. Snatch.

"C'mon, you guys. Dontcha know that it's rude to try and kill a man during a robbery?" He asked, still having a hold on the blade, as the men looked at him.

"Why don't you fuck off and maybe we'll let you live" the man who was holding the sword who's blade he was holding.

"And why don't you suck my fucking cock. Don't forget to give the balls a bit of love too" he said with a chuckle at the end. Only to fall back with his head is blown apart by a shotgun blast, blood flowing from the wound as grey matter splattered everywhere.

"Ohm fuck! Be careful next time!" The leader said as he wiped blood off his sunglasses and spit some brains out of his mouth. The man who killed the blue-haired man rolled his eyes and shrugged.

Oh, well. Let's get back to it" the leader said as he went to turn around. Only to stop and look on in shock as the recently headless body moved up to his feet, cracking his neck as he did. Sighing softly he rubbed the back of his head.

"Aw, that hurt!" He exclaimed, before grinning. "Now, where were we?" He asked as he pulled out Courchouse, grinning as he flipped the weapon around and held it with two of the links behind his back. He dashed forwards, slamming the end of it into the temple of the first one, and then grabbed the two middle bars before swing the ends in circles to block the bullets that were coming at him, before using Snatch to slam the shotgun into the nose of its wielder, and launching the shotgun across the room into the other man's chest. Afterwards, he caught the other end of his weapon, ready for anything. But he heard nothing but groaning, and the old man thanking him. He nodded and simply grabbed the money that the thugs had on them before pocketing the strange rectangular cards. He shrugged and walked out, Courchouse in the back of his pants, only to hold up his hands as the police aimed their guns at him.

The man leaned back in his chair, which was on only two legs as he rested his long legs on the metal tabletop. His hands were curiously uncuffed, but his didn't go anywhere. This may be his only way to find out where he was. He hummed softly as he waited for whoever was going to interrogate him. He perked up when the door open, and raised a brow when a middle-aged blonde woman walked in.

sighed and gently set the front legs of the chair down, before resting his elbows on the table and leaning forwards. The woman spoke to him. "Now, who are you, and why were you at the robbery?"

"I plead the fifth," he said simply and quickly, grinning a bit, before it faltered and emotions that he didn't have in his previous life surfaced, as the blonde before him glared at him. A very familiar, determined glare that sent a shiver down his spine and made his heart flutter. Beside the woman, he could see what looked like a very young girl, but whose age was much older than him, and the woman before him. But he couldn't help but mutter the her name.

"Elaine…?" To him, both real and altered memories, his voice was uncharacteristically broken, small, as if he was weak. He didn't like being weak. So he blinked before shaking his head, before his eyes hardened, but not too much. "Look, to be honest, my legs moved on my own, and before I knew it, the thugs were down on the ground"

"Oh? And how did you learn how to fight like this?" She asked, before showing a video of him using Courchouse, taking down the thugs with record time. He blinked before looking up at her. "Does this mean you saw…"

"Your head get blown off? Yes, yes we did," said a voice before a tall man - though shorter than him - walked into the room. "Though it's curious that you showed a telekinetic semblance, yet you came back from a head shot from a shotgun"

He sighed and rubbed his face. "Fine, I'll tell you…" he said before delving into the abridged version of his short life on earth, before relaying the memories of the character whose body he was inhabiting. "And, to top it all off, I'm immortal, because of the Guardian Saint of the Fountain of Youth - who was a fairy girl who looked young when she was literally millennia old - forced me to drink it in hopes of me living to save the Fairy King's Forest" He said, as tears gathered in his eyes at the memory of Elaine dying in his arms before he could fulfill her last request of telling her what she wanted to hear.

"That's a very big tale. How can we know you're telling the truth?" The man, Ozpin, asked. The man glared at the silver-haired man.

"My name is Ban, the Undead, the Fox Sin of Greed, and I have no clue where in the hell I am, where anything is, or what any of this stuff you all are talking about is"


End file.
